


jealousy

by mooselady



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sexual Themes, Unrequited Love, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 15:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7538074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooselady/pseuds/mooselady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>turning saints into the sea</p>
            </blockquote>





	jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> posted this on my tumblr awhile ago, enjoy little chickadees

Gil Marverde was falling in love at different times, at different places. It was hopelessly, and undoubtedly, completely out of his control. 

He didn’t ask for his heart to beat faster when the eighteen-year old looked at him. He didn’t ask for his chest to swell with admiration when he smiled back, or when the boy let his head roll to face the sky, exhaling a breath of purple smoke, the paleness of his throat exposed and vulnerable. 

He had beautiful indigo eyes. A person could get lost in those eyes, Gil was sure of this; or maybe, perhaps it was the way he closed in on himself when he was anxious, in the way he desired to be unnoticed, mysterious, a wisp of smoke in the summer air.

Gil fell in love when Odin showed him how to take apart a gun and put it back together.

He fell in love when they went for a hike, and the lanky teenager could name every tree, every bird, every flower.

He fell in love so unconditionally when they were under the nighttime stars and Odin grinned, saying, “W-Watch this.” He threw back his head, cupping his hands around his mouth, howling to the universe. Off in the distance, a lone wolf howled back, echoing the call. 

And so, without question, without fail, Gil Marverde had irreversibly, resolutely devoted his heart to him. 

After making his pact, he would freely confess his yearning to Nevy, pacing fretfully back and forth throughout his mindscape, rubbing at his face. 

“And it’s rare, but when he laughs, it’s just,” he paused, recalling the memories of Odin’s throaty, smoke-filled gasps, his lop-sided grin, the mouth-full of snaggled crooked teeth.

“It’s incredible,” he decided.

Nevy smiled softly at the boy. 

“Gil,” she beamed. “I think you’re in love.”

“Nevy, I think,” he ran his hand through his hair, eyes wide in astonishment, “I think you’re right. I’m in love.” He looked up, suddenly tense with apprehension. “I’m not sure what to do though.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder, tilting her head in kind regard.

“Tell him how you feel,” she suggested. With a knowing wink she added, “And give him a kiss, from both me and you.”

However, Gil found with great difficulty that a kiss was easier said than done. 

There was the time they had barely escaped a hoard of Scavengers, retreating back to their ship and fleeing the planet’s chaos in a panic. 

Everyone had made it unscathed, except Odin. 

He assured everyone he was fine, even crossed his heart on it.

“I’ve already m-made a p-pact, so I’m okay, forget about it,” he remarked nonchalantly. 

Gil realized he had been lying when an hour later, Odin tapped his knuckles on the doorway of the ship’s private room, clutching at his arm. 

“P-Please d-don’t tell the others,” he implored. 

Once Gil had retrieved a first aid kit, Odin locked the door, using his uninjured arm to pull his shirt off of him. He sat on the bench, following Gil’s instructions to stay still as he assessed the damage. 

It was a fairly deep wound, the site of the impact being centered at the top of his arm. A web of marvelous purple veins weaved across his skin, splotching his upper arm and shoulder with a profound darkened bruise.

Gil pursed his mouth, dabbing at the laceration with an alcohol-soaked cloth. Odin hissed at the contact, flinching away. 

“Sorry,” Gil whispered, pulling back. 

Odin shrugged, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he stated offhandedly. He scratched at the smirk forming on his mouth. “You’d th-think being pacted w-with that asshole Pedri w-would s-save my sorry ass, but-”

He trailed off, not finding the inspiration to finish his sentence.

Gil tried focusing on cleaning the wound. He granted himself quick glances at the dark-haired teenager, allowed himself the freedom to let his eyes wander over his face. 

He had to force himself to not reach out and brush the fallen eyelash off his cheek.

Gil snipped off a length of medical gauze, wrapping it around Odin’s arm carefully, precisely. He felt his mouth go dry.

They don’t teach you in medical school what to do when a beautiful boy is sitting shirtless beside you, alone, in a locked room. 

He taped the dressing in place, folding his hands unto his lap to indicate he was done. Odin studied his handiwork, quipping gratefully, “Th-Thank you.” 

Odin stood up, stretching as he did so. Gil caught sight of the zipper on the teenager’s side, evidence of the pact he had made. The scars branching from the zipper were twisted and gnarled; a gruesome disfigurement along the thinness of his waist.

Gil looked away, hoping his ogling had gone unnoticed. 

After instructing him to not pick at the injury, then watching him leave the room, Gil dropped his face into his hands, his skin burning with embarrassment.

 _Why didn't you kiss him you fool!_  he berated himself. 

The clock hanging above the door ticked by, methodically, loudly.

It troubled him more than he would dare to admit. 

————————————————-

He recalled the time they had docked unto an uninhabited planet; barren save for the vast expanse of oceans and sandy shores. Bare feet, the legs of their jeans cuffed, the four of them strolled along the winding beach, breathing in the salty air, enjoying the freedom of their new found lives.

Gil tilted his head up, smiling gently at the warm orange light of the sunset.

Eventually, Odin slowed his pace, ducking behind the group and joining Gil at his side, far away from the rolling tide. He scowled at the ocean apprehensively, hands in his pockets, tense and jittery.

“What’s wrong?” Gil asked.

“I don’t l-l-like huge bodies of w-water like this,” he answered, absently kicking at a stone.

“If I f-fall in,” he pressed, “you better s-save me Blue Boy.”

“Of course!” Gil assured. “I happen to be an excellent swimmer.”

Odin nodded, gazing at the last light of the sunset. 

“I w-wish I was k-kidding,” he mumbled to himself. 

Gil started to ask what he meant by that, when Ava crept up behind Odin, pulling at the collar of his shirt and dumping a handful of seaweed down his back. 

“ _Wha-_ ??? H-Hey!” he called out as Ava took off, her voice rolling with fits of giggles, sprinting down the beach.

Odin laughed as he took chase after the girl, nearly stumbling over the mounds of sand in his haste.

Gil watched as Odin caught up to the redhead, reaching out and wrapping his arms around her, swinging both of them full circle with the momentum. 

“Maggie?” Gil asked. “Why does Odin not like water?”

She raised a brow at him, then shrugged.

“I dunno,” she responded, darting out of the way of a scurrying crab. “If you really want to know, ask Ava.”

They continued their walk, watching Odin and Ava in the distance. Odin said something, motioning to his back, turning. Ava took a short running start, leaping up, and wrapping her arms around his neck. Together, he carried her on his back the rest of the way. 

Gil frowned. He pursued further, “Why would Ava know?”

Maggie picked at her nail, stating, “He tells her everything.”

At the words, he crossed his arms, scowling at the sand wedging itself between his toes.

 _Yeah, well_ , he thought indignantly, _he asked **me** to save his life if he was in danger._

———————————————

Maybe it had been inevitable. 

That night, Gil sat on the ship’s control room bench, reading a book explaining the hunting strategies of predatory animals. He was fully engrossed in the information, underlining certain phrases and highlighting entire paragraphs. Ava and Maggie had left to watch the crabs scuttle across the nighttime beach, saying they would be back before midnight. 

And that left Odin, who had locked himself in the bathroom to wash the sand off his body.

Gil tried ignoring it. He tried to ignore the sound of the shower water, tried to ignore the fact that they were alone in the ship.

_Sharks can smell a drop of blood in the ocean from a quarter of a mile away._

Gil scratched at his face, looking up at the bathroom door.

It was all very fascinating, absolutely, irrevocably, completely fascinating.

Gil exhaled quickly. No, it wasn’t. The real fascination was a few meters away, behind a locked door.

He jumped a little when he heard Odin groan, “You’ve _got_ t-to be f-fucking kidding me.”

The bathroom door swung open, Odin trudging out, hair still damp. He was wearing a pair of ragged sweatpants, his shirt bunched and crumbled as it hung loosely off his thin frame.

He took to a drawer underneath the ship’s controls, muttering crossly under his breath. 

“Is something wrong?” Gil questioned.

Odin pulled out a pair of scissors.

“M-My shirt is caught in th-this stupid pact zipper,” he informed, closing the drawer shut with his knee. 

Gil blinked rapidly, flicking his line of sight to his abdomen. His shirt was knotted at the site. Odin tried approaching the scissors at different angles, trying to figure out how to free his shirt, when he let out a frustrated sigh.

“I can do it,” Gil offered. 

Odin slouched, reluctantly coming forward and handing the scissors to Gil. 

“Take a seat,” he directed, placing his books on the ground to make room. 

Odin did so accordingly, not bothering to hide the defeat in his expression.

“Th-This is bullshit,” he muttered as Gil started snipping away at the fabric.

Gil chuckled, placing the bits and pieces of the shirt on the table beside them. He tugged slightly at the shirt, attempting to free it from the zipper. Odin took in a sharp breath, cringing. 

Gil stopped, looking up in concern. “Does that hurt?”

Odin tilted his head, widening his eyes in cynicism. 

“Y-Yeah, a little bit,” he stressed.

Gil continued, trying his best to be careful. He was finally able to free it, pulling back with a satisfied, “There.”

Odin rolled his eyes at the giant hole in his shirt, then looked up at the boy, stating, “Thank y-you Gil.”

Gil studied his violet eyes, the darkened flecks of indigo speckled among the irises. He swallowed, a prickle of sweat forming on the back of his neck.

If you’re this close to a beautiful boy, if you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, near enough to see the tiny faded scar on his chin, the sharp outline of black eyelashes framing tired eyes…

Then you’re suppose to kiss him, right?

If you love him, you’re suppose to kiss him. 

It was quick, rushed, clumsy. Gil broke the distance between them, cupping his hands on either side of Odin’s face and pressing his lips against his. 

In that moment, everything felt right to him. The touch felt right, the warmth felt right, the taste of his lips felt right.

Gil pulled away and instantly he realized his mistake.

Odin stared at him, jaw set, eyes wide in bewilderment. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Gil retreated, pulling away, bringing his hands against his chest. 

Odin’s face was changing color, metamorphosing into a twisted, branching texture of purple leathery skin. 

He stammered, blinking rapidly, “I-I-I…I d-didn’t-”

He paused, rubbing at his face, trying to dissuade his changing complexion.

Gil felt like he had done something awful, guilty of a crime that would evoke the highest form of punishment in the galaxy. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, unable to control the tremor in his voice.

“N-N-No, I’m j-just?” Odin rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m just r-r-really confused.”

Gil asked once more, sudden fear in his heart, “You don’t like boys, do you?”

Odin stood up. “I n-never said that!” He covered his face with his hands. “I d-don’t even _know_ wh-what I l-like.”

The dark-haired teenager started to back away. 

“I’m…I’m g-going to go f-f-find Ava and Maggie,” he stammered, turning and absconding from the ship. 

Alone, Gil curled up into himself, dropping his forehead to rest on his knees. 

He tried to bury the feeling, the utter rejection. Bleary tears burned fiercely at the corner of his eyes.

No one told him how much this was going to hurt. 

—————————————– 

A week later, the poison set into his heart.

On Odin’s suggestion, the four of them had decided to take temporary residence in a cottage situated on the Arrows’ homestead. The hope was that they could stay safe, secluded, surrounded by forests, until they could come up with a plan on what to do next concerning TITAN. 

The cottage was quaint, if not rickety and worn and rather dusty, but it was the closest home any of them had been in what felt like ages.

Gil couldn’t help but notice that Odin spoke very few words to him, save for a “thanks” and “that b-box over there” as they unpacked, carrying supplies from the ship into the house. 

As the sun shone from the middle of the sky, the teenagers sat outside on the grass, eating lunch, discussing the pros and cons of their new rendezvous point. Gil picked at the crusts of his sandwich, unable to build up an appetite, as he tried to not look at Odin, who sat on a tree stump away from the group, fully engrossed in his journal.  

He chewed at the mouthpiece of his pipe, scribbling notes into his journal haphazardly, inhaling the smoke at an anxious pace. 

Ava watched him before standing up, brushing the grass from her sundress before stepping lightly towards the boy. 

She paused in front of him, leaning down and resting the palms of her hands on his knees. 

The redhead moved closer just as Odin looked up from his writings.

Gil stifled the urge to gasp aloud. _Was she going to kiss him?_

Ava stopped herself short, dipping her face away from his and laughing into her shoulder. Odin looked away, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

Gil despised the fact that he could clearly see the violet blush across Odin’s sheepish grin.

Ava stood upright, beckoning Odin to come join them, motioning her hands towards Gil and Maggie. 

He stood, and just as Ava turned, Odin reached out longingly, letting the fiery ends of her red hair brush through his fingers.

Gil looked away darkly when Maggie scoffed, taking a bite of an apple.

“He is _so_ pathetically in love with her.”

——————————————

To add insult to injury, the nighttime rituals began.

Every night, Ava would tread from her room quietly, discreetly, tip-toeing down the corridor, past Gil’s room and into Odin’s room. 

The first time it happened, Gil looked up from his desk, calling out, “Ava?”

She paused, taking a step backwards. A pillow was cradled in her folded arms.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

She was unusually pale, a tremor coursing through her body. Her face was set in troubled worry.

The girl nodded, blinking quickly. She stepped forward, not saying anything as she kept her eyes to the ground.

The realization hit him: the only room past his was Odin’s. 

Gil sat still, listening intently, taking short, small breaths.

He heard a soft knock on Odin’s door, followed by a creak as it opened. There were hushed whispers. He heard Odin murmur quietly, “Are y-you sure?” 

Silence, then, the door closed shut.

Ava didn’t return down the hallway, and Gil crumpled up the letter he was writing forcibly, angrily. He shoved it the floor, laying his head down on the desk, bitter remorse in his heart. 

————————————

It was worse at night.

It was worse when Gil was lying in bed, surrounded by the dark, alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that’d scratch at the inside of his skull with pointed claws, whispering lies and malice and wretched, horrible envies. 

It kept him up for hours on end, every night, consecutively.

_What does Ava Ire have that I don’t?_

The envy, the excruciating jealousy, that alone was painful. Day after day, they’d share glances, tiny, knowing smiles, eyes that brightened with admiration for each other. 

Did they not care that other people were watching? Were doing this on purpose, out of spite?

Then, the dreams started.

The dreams were more awful than anything Ava and Odin could ever do, more awful than any torture Gil could ever bestow upon himself. 

They started innocent enough at first, images of Odin smiling, breathing out a plume of smoke, ducking his head, trying to hide his laughter. 

Then they’d be alone in a darkened closet, the dark-haired boy kissing at his neck, telling him how much he wanted him, needed him.

One night, it became grossly intense, too real, too vivid. 

They were in the shower, Odin restraining Gil’s wrists above his head, biting at the corner of his jaw.

He wasn’t sure how the song even went, but he knew the chorus the second it hit its climax.

“ _I’m gonna come_ ,” he moaned. 

This is the part of the dream where he pushes Gil against the wall, flush and breathless, gasping and desperate. Gil is drowning, eyes closed firmly shut, biting his lip. 

He wakes up, gasping for air, body trembling. It takes him a few moments to realize it wasn’t real. 

Curling into himself, covering his face, he tried to believe this wasn’t what he wanted. 

The teenager was losing sleep, and his patience was wearing thin. These dreams, these thoughts, they could only provide lullabies for so long. 

He could imagine it, he could practically hear Odin snap at him, “What is wr-wrong with you? You want love? Love is l-like a religion to you. It’s fucking t-terrifying. No one will _ever_ l-love you. No one will ever s-sleep with you.”

“Y-You’re pathetic.”

The vision of Odin Arrow, slender, raw, disheveled and incoherent with passion made Gil want to disappear into the dark, carve out his heart, and toss it into the black abyss. 

This was just a crush, right?

No. No, it wasn’t. 

This was bad. This was danger. 

This was envy for what he couldn’t have.

————————————–

Gil Marverde couldn’t sleep for the fifth night in a row.

He lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Someone had left the living room lamp on, its homely light glowing from the first floor.

With a sigh, Gil pushed back the covers, standing up from the bed and starting his descent down the stairs. 

He froze when he heard a stifled giggle coming from the living room, followed by the words, “You go first.”

Gil stepped lightly, breath held, purposefully avoiding the creaky, worn spots in the flooring.

“Stop laughing or you’re gonna wake everyone up.”

He peeked around the corner of the wall, keeping close to the shadows.

They were on the couch, Ava sitting on Odin’s lap, her hands bunched at the front of his shirt. She smiled, ducking her head down, causing her hair to cover her face. Odin reached up, brushing it behind her ear. He leaned forward, then stopped himself, snickering while he pressed his forehead against her shoulder. 

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” she chimed softly. 

He looked at her, half-lidded eyes transfixed in an earnest stare. He lifted her hand, closing his eyes and letting his lips trail down her wrists, kissing her scarred skin, the golden glow of magma churning underneath her flesh.

She sighed softly, patting his shoulder. “ _No_ ,” she fussed. “Odin, you know that’s not where I meant.”

Odin pressed his hands against her shoulder blades, clearing his throat. 

“You go f-first, firefly.”

Ava pressed her thumb against the corner of his mouth, eyes darting. 

She leaned in, refusing to stop this time, kissing the teenager gently on the lips.

Gil couldn’t bear it, turning to leave, wiping at the tears threatening to spill over. He cursed himself, cursed the pair of them, cursed the whole damn planet. 

The same pain was replaying over and over, yet every time he thought about this unrequited love the infliction felt sharper than before.

Gil Marverde couldn’t sleep for the fifth night in a row. Of course, who was there to blame for his insomnia but Odin Arrow and Ava Ire?

—————————————- 

Eventually, the water spilled over the edge, creating destruction in its wake.

The next night, they were in the living room, each to their own endeavors. Odin sat slouched on the couch, absorbed in a book. Maggie sipped at a cup of hot chocolate, dozing off in the rocking chair. 

Gil focused on a glass of water sitting on the coffee table before him. He knew he could get it to move, he knew if he just tried hard enough, he could manipulate the water any way he wanted to, just like Nevy had said.

He glared at Odin when the dark-haired boy licked his fingers, turning a page in his book.

Ava walked in, leaning over the top of the couch. Odin looked up from the book as she spoke to him quietly, “Wrathia wants to see Pedri.” She picked a piece of lint from his hair absently. “Apparently it’s urgent.”

Odin shut his book, standing up to follow her to her bedroom.

Gil knew they only had to be asleep beside each other for the meeting to take place, he _knew_ it wasn’t perverse in any way. Even if it were, he knew it wasn’t his place to call them out on it either. Yet, he couldn’t stop the words from coming forth like acid.

“Is that all you’re doing?”

Ava and Odin halted, turning to face him.

Gil’s blood began to quicken, he could feel the anger, the bitterness, boiling inside him.

Ava crossed her arms.

“What’s _that_ suppose to mean?” she asked, glaring.

Gil fought back the urge to laugh, shaking his head. 

“Obviously it means that you two are hiding something,” he shot back.

Ava and Odin shared an uneasy glance.

Gil’s fury doubled. _They still won’t admit it? They still refuse to confess themselves?_

“Why don’t you two tell us why you’re sleeping together every night?” he asked, voice dripping in accusation. 

Maggie looked up from her cup of hot chocolate, eyebrows raised in surprised.

Ava’s face erupted in volcanic heat at the insinuation, the sclera of her eyes coloring a bright ruby red. Odin scowled, crossing his arms, lips curled in objection.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” she spat out, her fists balled at her sides.

“Well maybe I would if you’d stop flaunting it like it’s a parade!” 

Odin interjected. 

“What is y-your p-problem?” he asked.

At the sound of the boy’s voice, Gil stood, his eyes glowing a bright, fluorescent green, his body shaking in a fitful rage.

The dam had burst, and there was no amount of coaxing, no amount of compensation in the world to fix the damage that had been done.

“Odin, **look at her**!” Gil snarled, throwing out his hand aggressively. With his movement, the water spilled from the cup, tumbling to the floor in the midst of his outburst.

“Look at what she’s done!” he continued, striking out words like venom. “Are we all just going to forget the massacre _she_ caused at Titan’s Headquarters?!” 

“Gil…” Maggie spoke out calmly. 

“No!” he yelled. “I’m tired of walking on eggshells about this!” 

His tone turned desperate, pleading almost.

“Odin, innocent people have died because of her! You see the crazy look she gets in her eyes when she’s fighting!”

He delivered the death bite.

“Look at her! _She’s a **monster**_!

There was the sound of a choked sob. They all jerked their heads towards Ava, only to see the younger girl flee the room, face buried in her hands.

“What the hell is the m-matter with y-you?” Odin barked. He turned to follow her, but not before seething from over his shoulder, “And b-by the way? Ava’s been h-having night terrors ever s-since what happened at Titan’s Headquarters. _That’s_ why she’s b-been s-sleeping with me.”

He left the room, leaving it cold, silent. Gil stared at the fallen glass of water, the puddle slowly seeping into the wood floors.

They heard Ava’s high-pitched sobs from her bedroom. 

She cried out, “He’s right! Look at me! Look at what I’ve done!”

She was screaming her heartache, old wounds tearing at the seams, the pain raw and searing. 

Her howls echoed throughout the house, “I’m a freak! A monster! I’m hated by people I don’t even know, and half the galaxy wants me dead!”

Gil rubbed at his eyes. No no no no no _no_ …

“ _And they have every right to hate me_!”

He couldn’t take it. He stepped away with every intent of walking out the front door and never coming back. 

“She regrets what happened,” Maggie spoke. 

Gil halted, listening.

Maggie stared down at the cup of hot chocolate in her hands, now cold and tasteless. 

“I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that she doesn’t regret it.”

He left, not saying anything. He went through the front door, shutting it slowly behind him.

He felt unable to move, unable to go any further.

_What have I done?_

Gil looked up at the moon, alone and solitary in the blackened sky. 

 _I just want to go home_ , he prayed. 

_I just want to go home._

He took the heartache like a knee to the gut. You take it and withstand the pain and then you let go.

You _have_ to let it go.

————————————–

In the middle of the night, he woke, mouth dry and throat parched. Gil walked as painstakingly quiet as he could through the house. Once in the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator, squinting his eyes against the unnatural light as he pulled out a jug of water.

He moved back, shutting the fridge door, only to see a pair of red glowing eyes watching him from the doorway. 

Gasping, he stumbled backwards, clutching at his heart.

“Odin, you scared me,” he implored.

The Arrow teenager continued to stare silently. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his crimson eyes unblinking, unwavering. 

The room suddenly felt too cold, too quiet under his unnerving watch.

Gil backed away. He didn’t like this, not one bit.

“Do you think about m-me when you’re alone in your r-room at night?” he asked. His voice was ominous, the words collecting, mingling with the surrounding darkness.

Gil gulped, taking another step backwards.

“Do you think about me t-touching you?”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, icy fear running down his spine.

“Why are you asking me this?” he breathed aloud.

Odin walked forward, head bent, his dark silhouette blending in with the shadows.

Gil could see the blood red slits of his irises as he approached him.

All at once, Odin slammed himself into the boy, pressing his mouth forcibly against his. 

Gil went wide-eyed, dropping the jug of water to the floor, fumbling at the space around them, completely caught off-guard.

The kiss was rough, unyielding in its force. Odin used his body to push the other boy against the dining table, restraining him, making it impossible for him to move. He broke apart, trailing his teeth along the side of his neck.

Gil froze. He felt the trace of pointed fangs brush against his skin; it was deadly, sinister, sharp. He flinched at the contact and immediately Odin reached behind his head, grabbing a handful of white hair and yanking it back. 

The wolf had his prey right where he wanted.

He leaned into his ear, whispering in a voice not his own,

“Don’t you ever make her cry again.”

He chuckled darkly, the echo of a grim reaper speaking from his throat.

“Or I’ll tear you the fuck apart.”

And with that, he let go, stepping back and disappearing into the darkness of the night.

Gil stood there, panting, shaking, unable to release his grip on the dining table. 

And then he remembered.

When he was still enrolled in TITAN’s boarding school, there was a lesson in biology about the pack mentality of wolves.

_Now remember class, do wolves ever kill members of their own pack?_

Gil closed his eyes, the tears rolling down his cheeks. 

He had realized his mistake too late.

The answer was always there, he had just been too naive to see it.

_That’s right class!_

The innocence had met its violent end.

Wolves will kill _anything_ to protect their mates.


End file.
